Window Cleaning is the New Tinder
by zombified419
Summary: Bartenders were offered their fair share of names and offers and numbers, but Bucky's only got eyes for one. Cue Hot Window Guy.
**_HUD: First Stucky fic. Enjoy!_**

* * *

"Holy _fuck."_

Bucky knew he was a pretty okay looking dude. Well, maybe more than _just_ okay. He'd dated his fair share of pretty dames and handsome men, and they never seemed too put off by the tattoos licking up his entire left arm which, given who he was and what he currently did, always stood out proudly. Some may say it drew away from his overall appeal, but those people were usually pushing sixty and it was fucking 2016, where most jobs didn't discriminate anyway, and it's his body so go fuck yourselves. So between the tattoos and longish dark hair he always wore pulled back, the slight five o' clock shadow and leather jackets, he could safely categorize himself to be 'ruggedly handsome, dark and/or mysterious, slight bad boy', end quote.

Hence why this guy standing outside of Bucky's bar drew his attention, because he was so plainly _not._ Tall, _ungodly_ tall, with shoulders wide enough to part the Red Sea, sandy gold blond hair catching every lovely ray from the sun, and an obviously ridiculously well-built form. Like, why wasn't he in the gym? He looked like he had a cot in the back of one or something.

Bucky was willing to bet he was lost, because what in all the world's luck was he doing standing outside of Bucky's bar? He carried what looked like cleaning equipment and leaned over to set it down, revealing _just_ the barest sliver of pale skin along his right side, just above where those jeans were hugging slim hips.

"Hoooleee _fuck."_

"What?" Bucky blinked and jerked, suddenly remembering where he was and what he was suppose to be doing. He glanced over to see Clint, his bar bro, staring at him with that somewhat bored expression he seemed to always boast.

"Nothin'," he answered after a quick breath. He focused back on the counter he'd been cleaning, scrubbing his slightly dried towel in a semicircle. Had he really been staring long enough for the stupid _towel_ to _dry?_ "Just laborin' away over here."

Clint's laugh was so abrupt that Bucky jumped again. "Yeah, sure. I know that tone; what're you - ?" Bucky winced when Clint trailed off, knowing he'd just landed eyes on what Bucky'd been watching. _"Shit."_

"Yeah, right?" Bucky answered. "He's _ridiculous - "_

"I can't see a _damn thing!"_

Bucky trailed off and looked back at Clint, who was doing the same thing. He was pretty sure their expressions were matching to boot. When you're friends with Clint as long as Bucky was, you tended to run over his words because of his unorthodox dramatic pauses, leading to confusion on Clint's part because Bucky _really_ didn't have time to wait for him, usually.

"What are you talking about?" Clint asked.

"You first," Bucky prompted. Clint just shrugged and gestured to where they'd been looking.

"Can't see through the front glass, is all," he continued. "That cleaner Nat hired must be here. You?"

Bucky kept his eyes carefully trained on the now solid white front window. "Same."

Clint shrugged and moved around to the other side of the bar. Clint's attention could always easy be lost. "I'm gonna grab something from the kitchen before we open; wanna split it?"

"Yeah, sure," Bucky answered. "Just keep the caramel on your side."

Clint tossed him a two-fingered salute as he crossed into Bucky's line of sight before disappearing into the swing door by the bar. Bucky continued to 'wipe' the counter.

The hot window cleaner had finished spraying whatever foam he was using and now moved onto the squeegee. It's a good thing he was tall, starting from the top and slowly, so _slowly_ , working his way down. First he revealed his face, adorned with the cutest look of concentration Bucky had ever seen, then those huge shoulders, his other arm, all the way down to the bottom of the glass, which stopped at mid-thigh. Those jeans did quite a bit for his thighs, Bucky was happy to add, and he certainly wouldn't mind peeling them off.

Somewhere between Bucky's daydreaming and 'cleaning', he missed hearing the front door open until there was a presence standing at the bar proper to his left. A polite cough drew his attention.

"Good afternoon," he began automatically, plastering on his patented bartender smirk, only to have to stop his eyes from bugging out of his head at _who_ he was talking to.

"Ah, hello." Oh god, it was Hot Window Guy, and he was standing, like, _two feet away._ His hair was just as blond even without the sun's help, and his eyes were so _blue._

Bucky swallowed quickly, hoping his smirk didn't waver. "Is there anything I can _help_ you with?" And, oh, was that extra emphasis so _worth it_ because Hot Window Guy's breathtaking smile dipped sheepishly as a large hand moved to scratch at the back of his neck. The motion showed the plain-as-day strength in his forearm and bicep, which bunched slightly from the motion. Bucky had to remember how to breathe.

"Actually," he began, and was that a faint blush or was Bucky imagining it? "Would you mind signing this?"

Bucky noticed his other hand wasn't empty and now offered a thick metal clipboard over. Bucky nodded. "Of course." He accepted the clipboard and drew a pen from where he always had one stashed in his button down. His eyes trailed along the form, catching 'Commandos Cleaning Service' and 'biweekly' before penning his name on the dotted line.

"Here ya go, champ," he chirped, offering another one of his smirks that Nat always labeled as devastating. It seemed to have the desired effect, because Bucky was positive a light blush adorned those high cheekbones and barely crooked nose _this_ time. He counted it as a win and mentally marked himself a tally.

"Thanks, ah," Hot Window Guy's impossibly blue eyes dropped to his paper. "James?"

Bucky waved his left hand dismissively. "Even my Ma doesn't call me James; it's Bucky."

A bright smile broke out across his face, nearly blinding Bucky in its magnificence. "Nice to meet you, Bucky. I'm - "

 _"Bucky! Help!"_ Bucky glanced over at the swing door at Clint's yelp, mentally sighing. He shrugged over at Hot Window Guy.

"I'm sure you're fine," he answered, pitching his voice so Clint could hear.

 _"I'm not fine, I'm SO not fine! This keg is spewing Bud Light and it SMELLS SO BAD!"_

Bucky really did sigh this time and offered another shrug. "Sorry, duty calls."

"Sure, yeah," Hot Window Guy answered, stepping back as Bucky slipped from behind the bar and moved towards the kitchen door. Bucky spared a glance at his chiseled jaw, noticing his smile had dimmed. Stupid Clint. "I'll see you around?"

"Here almost every day," Bucky replied with a wink and wave as he pushed into the kitchen. He paused around the corner, sneaking a glance through the glass window in the door. Hot Window Guy paused for a moment, looked down at the clipboard in his hand before moving towards the front door. Bucky sure was sad to see him go, but damn did those jeans make it a little easier to watch.

While Bucky got Clint's spewing keg under control ("How did this even happen? I thought you were coming back here for _cake.")_ he realized he'd missed Hot Window Guy's name. He'd just been about to share when Clint decided to make an idiot of himself. Fucking jerk.

"Hey can I borrow your extra shirt?" Clint asked, already peeling his soaked shirt off his arms.

"No."

"What, _why?"_ Clint whined. Bucky took one look at his friend's pitiful state, covered in most of the fouling smelling beer, but remained resolute.

"Don't have my spare today," he lied. Clint groaned again, his shoulders drooping immediately. Bucky hid his grin as he tossed a dry towel at Clint's head, which landed haphazardly on his soaked and now spiky hair.

He missed Hot Window Guy's name for at least half a week - Clint could suffer through one night drenched in Bud Light. If Bucky had his way, Clint would have _drowned;_ he got off too easy in Bucky's opinion.

* * *

Bucky hated cat and mouse games, but that seemed to be the page with the window cleaner. He always showed up for Bucky's shifts, always brought his clipboard to Bucky to sign, always started to re-introduce himself right when Clint or Nat would holler half way across the damn bar for him.

It was almost sabotage.

Of course, Bucky should have already _known_ that it actually _was._

He was tipped off when Hot Window Guy came in three weeks after Day Zero. He had his over shirt tossed around the back of his neck, leaving his arms and shoulders bare. Bucky didn't even _try_ to be discreet with his ogling until it came time to sign the dotted line, and even then things were difficult.

"So," he started, pulling out his own pen. "Back for my autograph?"

The blond god grinned that adorably sheepish grin of his and dipped his chin. He looked up at Bucky, the angle making him look from under his lashes, and Bucky literally felt his heart break.

"I just couldn't keep away," he answered, his tone dancing the line between flirting and a clear honesty that was undeniably rare when it came to flirting. Bucky appreciated that tone in their short talks. The man was a hunk, obviously, but Bucky could tell he had some interesting outlooks that Bucky would love to listen to.

"Well I hope you're keeping these," Bucky answered as he held his hand out for the clipboard. Despite the broad surface, their fingertips grazed.

"What for?" Damn, he's cheeky, too.

"For when I'm famous, obviously," Bucky answered with a put upon huff.

Hot Window Guy's blue, blue eyes smiled. "Hopefully not _Bar Rescue."_

Bucky blinked for a second, not believing his luck, before tossing his head back and laughing. This guy was _such_ a shit.

"I'm thinking more - "

"Buck, need some help!" Bucky literally could have cursed Nat, _seriously._ He glanced over his shoulder at the swing door with a poor attempt at hiding his scowl. He paused for a second to take a calming breath before smiling apologetically at his (momentary) companion. Hot Window Guy's previous smile had dwindled, and the mirth that had made his eyes shine like stars seemed to be replaced with something Bucky hoped was disappointment. It wasn't a good look (if Bucky had his way it'd never be there again), but Bucky could appreciate that it was because of a lack of him.

"Duty calls," Bucky chirped with an eye roll. That brought the playfulness back in another award-winning smile.

"You're certainly in high demand," he said, his tone light.

Bucky shrugged. "Guess so. I don't even know why; all they seem to want is for me to move some shit from point A to point B and back again."

Bucky enjoyed Hot Window Guy's rich laugh as he moved around the bar to the kitchen. "Well, I'll see ya."

He nodded. "Same time?"

"Same place!" Bucky answered, tossing a wave over his shoulder as he walked into the kitchen. He paused once he was behind the door and muttered a soft curse. Why couldn't he just have, like, _five minutes?_ There was an obvious spark accompanied by a palpable tension that Bucky somehow knew could involve him swinging his arms around those broad shoulders and Hot Window Guy _might just_ carry him away. It could happen, _if_ he had his five minutes. He swallowed his disappointment and daydream to move further into the kitchen.

As he rounded the corner, he saw Clint and Natasha sitting on empty kegs with a cutting island pulled between them for a makeshift table. They had a large chocolate sundae between them, only partially gone. He felt his jaw relax in disbelief.

"Seriously?" His voice drew their attention. Clint grinned and motioned him over.

"Hey, Buck, take a seat!" He nudged the third empty keg with his non-slip shoes. It clanged annoyingly against the tile. "We saved you the cherry."

Bucky didn't move. _"Seriously?"_

Natasha, the bar and general manager, spared him a glance from her mountain of ice cream. "Shut your mouth before the flies get in."

Bucky clicked his jaw shut. He folded his arms across his chest and narrowed his eyes at first Clint then Natasha. Clint stopped nudging the keg with his toe, ending the rattling against metal and tile.

"I've been trying to get the window cleaner's _name_ for _three weeks!_ Every fucking time we start talking, one o' you _idiots_ call me off, and I can't - "

"His name is St - " Natasha started.

Bucky shook his head and slapped his palms over his ears. "Stop! I don't want your _lies!_ I'll find out like any other person, by _introduction,_ but you fucks gotta give me a chance."

Natasha shared a look with Clint. His friends were assholes a _lot_ of the time, but Bucky had a long fuse when it came to them and whenever they (Natasha, usually, because Clint was kind of always an idiot) sensed he was close to snapping, they relented.

She rolled her tongue along her teeth and stuck her spoon in the bowl. "He seems interested?"

 _"Fuck yes,"_ Bucky answered, holding his arms out to his sides. "I'da told ya if your goal hadn't been _cock blocking."_

Clint snorted and shook his head. "It wasn't, man, honest. We were just teasing you."

Bucky looked to Nat for confirmation. When she nodded, he sighed and felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. He trudged over to the once-again jiggling keg, curtesy of Clint's shoe, and took up the extra spoon. "Give me a chance next time, yeah?"

Natasha nodded as she grabbed her spoon. "You got it, tiger."

* * *

Bucky's chance was given that very same week, and _oh_ was it _perfect._ Seriously. A very memorable Thursday, if Bucky'd ever had one.

It started much the same; Bucky came into work with a slight spring in his step, excited to see the chiseled jaw and broad shoulders that had been starring in his most recent dreams. He started his shift with a whistle, eventually annoying Clint enough to seek refuge in the kitchen. Bucky kept glancing over his shoulder at the window as he cleaned bottles and stacked glasses, expectant. When the actual first patron of the night came in with no sign of his window cleaner, Bucky began to get discouraged.

Natasha came out to survey the bar and mingle with guests after the first hour. Bucky signaled her with a jerk of his head, and a moment later she came to the well.

"Everything okay?" She asked, keeping her smile in place.

"Window cleaner," Bucky answered, keeping his eyes on a drink he was mixing. "Did you call him off to spite me?"

Nat snorted. "No. I was actually wondering that myself. He's painfully punctual."

Bucky nodded. "Always an hour before open."

Natasha tapped her red nails on the counter. "I'll try to call him. Keep an eye on 10; she's not interested, and he keeps trying to feed her drinks."

Bucky hummed his agreement and spun around to pass Clint his drink as Natasha slipped away. He didn't see her again for what felt like an hour, but he kept an eye on the brunette at 10 that was politely declining a balding man's attempts to charm her. Bucky kept up his banter with Clint, much to the delight of the guests seated at the bar proper. It was something they both noticed drew spectators, and just like any other night, there was a large crowd growing and waiting for seats. When Natasha finally returned, Bucky was tossing olives into Clint's mouth to a rousing cheer from their gathered crowd.

"Bucky," she whispered. Bucky took a bow to more applause and grinned at her.

"Yeah?" He began, moving closer to not have to shout.

"No answer," she replied. Bucky furrowed his brow. "That's not like him at all."

"Think he's in trouble?" Bucky asked, hearing the hollowness in his own voice. That guy was _huge,_ so there's no way it could have been a mugging or something. But it was New York, and _boy_ were there some idiots there.

Natasha shrugged. "I don't think so."

Bucky felt better at that - Natasha had an uncanny way of being right about that sort of thing. "Maybe he's detained?"

"That's my hunch," Nat answered. "Keep an eye out for him if he shows, alright?"

Bucky nodded and watched her move away, back into the crowd and to rescue 10 from anymore unwanted attention. Bucky had long ago stopped making any drinks for the guy, and once he saw Natasha's flaming red hair, slipped up to pay and leave. Bucky watched him go with a wry grin. Even the best cowered to Natasha.

Another hour passed in a blur, the initial rush keeping Bucky occupied with drinks and his back-and-forth with Clint. He checked with his side of the bar and moved back to the well, pouring and mixing a few drinks for the wait staff, when something outside caught his eye.

Bucky wasn't sure how he'd missed it before (granted he _was_ busy), but the entire window was covered in white soap. He felt himself grin as his heart sped up - _he was there!_ He was late, like _three hours late,_ but Bucky wasn't about to complain. Bucky finished up his last drink and sent the girl for Natasha. His manager seemed to materialize from nowhere a scarce minute later.

"He's here!" Bucky whispered, nodding towards the window. Natasha looked over, a small smile on her lips.

"So he is," she said. Bucky knew that was as close as Natasha would ever get to expressing concern, but he felt it nonetheless. Natasha hung around the well as Bucky made drinks, keeping his eyes on the slowly appearing outside world.

Hot Window Guy's method was appreciative. He always started from the very top and worked his way down to about his shoulders, then began with the edges before moving to the bottom and ending with a little box-shape covering himself from view. It left the barest hint of streaks, _and_ was fun to watch. Tonight was no exception.

He began with the top, moving to his shoulders, but Bucky suddenly felt his throat dry. _His shoulders were bare._ Bucky spared a glance at Natasha, who very plainly noticed herself with a quirk of one thin eyebrow. The show continued further and exposed what Bucky had been praying for. The blond god wasn't wearing a _shirt._ Sometimes he would take his shirt off but there was always an undershirt beneath. Not today.

Bucky watched, mesmerized, as his strokes moved lower and lower, now practically to his naval. The cute look of concentration was there, as always. Bucky tried to work his throat as Hot Window Guy moved to the edges.

By now, his lack of activity had Clint's attention.

"Yo, Buck, I need that - "

"Shh," Natasha hissed. Bucky swallowed again, not trusting himself to speak.

Clint blinked, looking over at Natasha. His brow furrowed as he looked back and forth between them. After he noticed both Nat and Bucky were fixated on something _outside,_ Clint turned his attention - and promptly whistled.

 _"Dayum, Buck,"_ Clint breathed. "That guy's ripped."

"Yeah," Bucky managed weakly.

"We know," Natasha answered, almost proudly.

Now the three of them were staring at the glass and slowly-exposed hunk through it. Bucky tried to work his throat again, fighting to decided if he should turn away for a glass of water or deal with it and never miss an inch. When the next skin that showed were bare thighs, Bucky grabbed the counter for balance and realized he wasn't going _anywhere._

With all three of them now out of commission, shouts from annoyed patrons at the bar began. It only took a second of following their lines of sight before the bar promptly fell silent. Bucky realized ironically that he couldn't be happier with a bar almost full of women more than he was at that exact moment. Together, the twenty or so people watched the second swipe of exposed thigh in near silence.

Bucky couldn't believe his luck. There wasn't a shirt, and obviously no _jeans,_ too! There had to be a reason; Hot Window Guy didn't seem like the type to parade around naked, as much as Bucky's wishful thinking may detail.

The little box of window soap he'd been creating grew smaller and smaller. Despite dozens of eyes staring very obviously through the glass, the window cleaner didn't even seem fazed. He continued to work methodically until just his waist wasn't visible. He glanced down towards the box, his left hand dropping to what Bucky assumed was his hip with a soft smile. Bucky held his breath as the final swipes were made, right to left. Bucky's jaw fell open.

Hot Window Guy obviously wasn't wearing his usual jeans, which was a large plus. He was, however, wearing boxer briefs. Which hugged _everything,_ including the rather large bulge of what Bucky could only assume were the man's cock and balls. Bucky felt Clint nudge him in the ribs with his elbow.

"He's ripped _and_ hung like a horse!" He chortled, earning himself a glare from Natasha and a collective _Ssh!_ from the women at the bar. Clint slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

Bucky swallowed thickly as he felt a heat steal up his neck. He didn't even know this dream boat's _name_ but here he was being treated to a show that he couldn't even fully enjoy because of work and _damn_ did he want to charge out there and kiss that adorable pout right off his stupid chiseled face -

A loud gasp from the majority of the bar pulled Bucky from his thoughts, quickly followed by even louder _Awws_ and _Cutes!_ from the women behind him. Bucky looked back at the window to see what the hubbub was about, only to feel the blush he'd been fighting slap him in the face.

Hot Window Guy had finished his cleaning and was currently shaking off the squeegee, the muscles in his right arm flexing and bunching. His left hand, however, would to any other look like he was fondling his own balls on the street in New York, but was in fact holding a mewling kitten in place. The look on the man's face was of obvious comfort as he cooed at the distraught kitten _nestled in his boxer briefs._

How the hell were Bucky's eyes _not_ bugging from his skull right now?

"Bucky." Natasha's always calm voice seemed to be fighting laughter; the look on her face matched. "Here's your chance."

Bucky hesitated only for a second before shoving Clint out of his way and moving around the bar to the restaurant floor. The women were all practically foaming at the mouth, trying to get pictures of the hot sweetheart protecting a kitten in his underwear, and were all fairly easy to navigate through. Bucky had enough sense to pause by the server station to snatch up a small cloth before he left the restaurant entirely. He vaguely heard Natasha snapping for Sharon to get behind the bar as the door shut behind him.

Hot Window Guy put his squeegee down as Bucky got closer. It was surprisingly cold outside for it only being seven, but Bucky felt a shiver from a different reason when those blue eyes smiled over at him.

"Hey Bucky," he said warmly. "I could just bring the paper inside for you - "

"Nope!" Bucky answered quickly. "Have you even _looked_ at yourself? No way would you survive all those vultures in there." He jerked his thumb towards the glass and watched Hot Window Guy glance over. He seemed to realize his audience for the first time, his face turning a brilliant scarlet. Bucky loved it.

He turned his back to the glass and quickly removed the mewling kitten from his underwear, although Bucky didn't think the new angle would do anything more than egg his onlookers on. He cradled the small white fluff ball to his chest and glanced sheepishly at Bucky for help. Bucky remembered the cloth he carried and offered it.

"Thanks," he answered, taking the red napkin (of course Bucky would grab the smallest thing possible) and wrapping it around the kitten. The little thing seemed to settle down better, wrapped in a cloth and pressed to what Bucky imagined to be a very warm chest.

There was an awkward pause before Bucky blurted out: "Come inside before ya freeze!"

Hot Window Guy glanced up in surprise, blinking quickly, before his expression relaxed into a small smile. "Alright."

Bucky reached out and grabbed his wrist, dragging him back into the restaurant. He blatantly ignored the catcalls and wolf whistles from the vultures at the bar, pushing through the crowd to get to the kitchen door. He didn't stop until they were standing in the dry storage, far away from the kitchen and general staff. He stuck his head out of the doorway and signaled for the dishwasher.

"Hey Jerry, wouldja go out an' grab the cleaning stuff by the window?" Jerry, a kid actually named Gerald and barely tall enough to come to Bucky's shoulders, nodded and ducked out of the dish pit. Bucky glanced around to make sure they were alone before turning back in.

Hot Window Guy looked just _pitiful._ He was practically naked except for his underwear and the leather strapped watch on his left wrist, standing between bags of produce and pots and pans with a sleeping kitten cradled in his too large arms. He didn't even have any shoes.

"What the hell _happened_ to you?" Bucky asked, because he really, _really_ needed to know.

His companion shuffled his weight, drawing Bucky's attention _down._ Even without the deceptive kitten, he _still_ looked, well, _hung,_ as Clint had put it. Bucky blinked and looked back up, crossing his arms over his chest and hoping his ogling went unnoticed.

If it hadn't, Bucky wasn't called on it. The blond scratched the back of his neck with a self-deprecating smile, looking up at Bucky as he had the last visit from under his lashes.

"Well, I was on my way here when there was an accident that roped off the sidewalk and route that I usually take, so I had to cut through the park," he began. "I was walking around a lake when I heard this little guy cryin'. He was stuck out on something floating towards the centre. I didn't even think, I just went after him."

"In your missing clothes?" Bucky asked. The blond's expression shifted to embarrassment, adorned with a soft blush.

"No, I, uh, took 'em off and dove in. When I came back, all that was left was my cleaning kit. Luckily my wallet was in there, but my phone was in my jeans so I couldn't call anyone, and I was already so _late_ that I just - "

"Left the park to go back to work?" Bucky offered, grinning when the blush on his companion's face darkened with a nod. He chuckled and shook his head.

"You've got some of the shittiest luck I've heard in a while, and I'm a bartender."

"I'll admit, I didn't quite...think it through."

"I always figured you'd be the kinda guy to give someone the shirt off your back if you could," Bucky continued, grin softening. "Wouldn't imagine that extending to a _kitten,_ but hey, I don't judge."

That made Hot Window Guy laugh, the sound echoing in the small space. It rattled the kitten awake, it's eyes opening in a beautiful blue that matched the man holding him. Bucky felt his smile grow. "Let me find you something to wear."

Bucky turned to a closet a few feet over from him and rummaged around for a brief moment, giving a little triumphant sound when he found an old chef uniform. He offered the articles to the blond. His blue eyes dropped from Bucky's face to the clothes in hand and then to the kitten still cradled in red. He looked back at Bucky and grinned sheepishly.

"Uh, would you mind...?" He said, beginning to hold the small thing with both of his large hands out towards Bucky. The kitten was far too small compared to his hands.

Bucky immediately held out his left hand. The kitten was gently placed; the other's hands were hot on his skin, coaxing his elbow to bend and move the once-again sleeping kitten closer to his chest. Once the bundle was carefully tucked between palm and chest, the blond took the chef uniform. Bucky could still feel the heat from his palms.

Bucky turned slightly away to give some semblance of privacy, focusing his eyes on counting grains of rice. He had hoped the mental counting would drown out the sound of cloth on skin, but his ears were damn traitors.

After a polite cough, Bucky turned back. The chef uniform hardly did much - the coat couldn't even button because of his huge-ass shoulders and the pants stopped partially up his shins. At least he wasn't almost naked, which Bucky was both sad and grateful for.

"Thank you for all your help," the blond said, holding his hands back out for the kitten.

Bucky passed the purring bundle over and waved a dismissive hand. "None needed. I wanted to."

Hot Window Guy smiled again, his teeth a perfect white between soft pink lips. "Bet you just help any ol' half-naked guy you see, huh?"

"Only if they're carrying a kitten in their underwear," Bucky teased, throwing in a wink because why the hell not?

His action was rewarded with another bashful head dip and a scratch to the back of the blond's neck. "Don't blame you, there."

Jerry announced his return with the cleaning supplies, setting the backpack and duffle down. Bucky thanked him and sent him on his way, moving the items further into dry storage. "Do you need to borrow the phone?"

"If you wouldn't mind?"

Bucky fished out his mobile from his back pocket and passed it over. "Not at all."

Bucky went to fetch a few things while calls were being made. He wanted to give the blond some privacy. He grabbed a small saucer of warm milk for the kitten and two mugs of hot cider for the humans, pausing for a second at Nat's office for a few of those plastic booties she made them wear on their shoes when the floors were being cleaned.

When Bucky returned, Hot Window Guy was finishing up a call. He looked over when Bucky came into sight. "A friend is coming to pick me up."

"Well that's good," Bucky answered. He balanced his drink tray carefully as he set down the saucer of milk on a few boxes and passed over a mug of cider. "You have an ETA?"

"Fifteen minutes," he said, trading the offered mug gently for Bucky's phone. "Thank you."

"Sure thing." Bucky watched as the blond moved the kitten onto the box after nudging him awake. The fur ball mewled and sniffed the saucer before promptly digging in. His enthusiasm made Hot Window Guy laugh. It was a bright and warm sound that settled somewhere in Bucky's chest like a new part of him.

Silence settled as they sipped their drinks, watching the kitten. It didn't take long for the little guy to tire out, flopping over for another nap. Apparently that kitten had had a very exciting day. Bucky snorted into his mug.

His companion sighed, drawing Bucky's attention. He was looking at Bucky with a somewhat hopeless expression, his blue eyes warm and his smile soft. "I did this all wrong."

"Did what?" Bucky asked around his mug.

 _"This,"_ he answered, waving his free hand between them in a vague gesture. "It's all wrong. I haven't even introduced myself."

Bucky snorted, again, his face breaking out into a grin. "True - I've seen quite a bit of you today, but I'm still calling you 'Hot Window Guy' in my head. Where the hell are your manners?"

Hot Window Guy grinned back. "My Mama would kill me."

"I'd expect no less of a woman who raised her son to jump in after helpless kitties."

The blond chuckled and shook his head. "You're _something,_ Buck."

Bucky felt his stomach tighten at the obvious affection used for his name. "Told ya to keep those signatures."

"Of course." Hot Window Guy's smile softened. "Hot Window Guy, huh?"

Bucky choked - he _had_ said that aloud, apparently. He swallowed quickly to avoid a catastrophe. "Maybe?"

"That's a new one, is all," he answered, shifting his stance. Bucky saw what could only be a twinkle of mischief in those blue eyes. "Usually I'm just called 'Steve'."

Bucky pretended to think a moment, really selling it by adding a hand to his chin. "Hmm, Steve is pretty boring. I feel like Hot Window Guy gives you an edge."

"I'll keep that in mind for any future business cards: Steve 'Hot Window Guy' Rogers," Steve answered, taking a sip from his mug. He never broke eye contact with Bucky as he added: "At your service."

Bucky felt his stomach knot and throat clench _and_ his cock twitch all at the same time. God that expression on _that_ face and those words in _that_ tone had to be illegal. No way was Steve allowed to run around like that. No way.

Before Bucky could answer, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He panicked for a second, confused by the sensation, before remembering it might be for Steve and digging it out. The screen read just a simple: _Sorry for bugging, I'm here for Steve._ A wave of disappointment crashed over Bucky. It was amazing how fast fifteen minutes passed when he was spending it with such a fucking dream boat.

"Your ride's here," he offered. Steve's smile seemed to dip, and Bucky wondered if it was from disappointment. "I'll help you with your stuff." Bucky took Steve's mug as he gathered the kitten again, passing them off to Jerry before heading back to the dry storage. "Oh! Here, take these. It's dangerous to go alone."

Bucky passed over those little booties he'd forgotten about, grinning back when Steve smiled at him. "You really think of everything, huh?"

"One of us has to."

Bucky walked Steve through the side exit of the kitchen, careful to check the alley for anything sharp. The coast was clear, and together they crossed to the curb were a tan pickup truck was waiting. A very handsome black man with an easy smile rolled the passenger window down and waved.

Steve waved back before turning to Bucky. "This is Sam."

Bucky smiled at him as he moved to the window, holding out the little kitten proudly. He really, _really_ hoped all that flirting hadn't been for nothing, because if Steve was dating this Sam guy Bucky was probably going to scream and run down the street. He'd find a new bar to haunt in no time.

"That's fine in the back," Sam called. He'd slid over to the passenger window and motioned at Bucky.

"Sure," he answered, tossing Steve's backpack and duffle over. Sam nodded and smiled at him.

"Thanks for helping Steve, man. He's a little clueless sometimes," he offered, grinning over at the man in question. "I'm Sam, by the way."

"Bucky," Bucky answered, accepting the hand held out to him in a firm shake. "Well I'll let you guys go. I gotta get back in, anyway."

"Nice to meet you!" Sam replied as he slid back over to the wheel with the kitten. Steve paused before opening the door.

"Thank you, for all your help," he said, smiling warmly. Bucky couldn't help but smile back. "I was, ah, going to ask if I could call you, _but - "_

"How about after you get a new phone," Bucky heard himself saying. Steve's smile turned sheepish. "In the meantime, you know where to find me."

Steve nodded. "Yeah, I do. I'll see you soon." With that, Steve leaned forward and pressed a brief kiss to Bucky's cheek. It was no more than a brush of his lips, but it was enough to have Bucky reeling long after Sam's truck was gone.

He hoped Steve got a new phone _pronto._

* * *

Bucky was wiping down a stubborn spot on the counter when the door opened. He called out a distracted greeting as he kept all his focus on that one fucking _dot._

"Is now not a good time?" Bucky snapped his head over at the sound of Steve's deep voice, knowing his eyes were comically wide. Steve just smiled at him and pulled a bar stool out.

"Now's a great time," he answered, tossing the towel over his quarantine zone. "What can I do for you?"

"Well," Steve began, reaching into the pocket of the leather jacket he wore. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind programming your number in this for me?" He put a brand new Mach VIII phone on the counter, sliding it across the wood. How the hell did a window cleaner afford such a new phone? Whatever.

Bucky fought down his grin and failed miserably, scooping up the device and immediately tapping away. He passed it back once he was done. Steve carefully picked it up. "Now, I'll have you know, I get asked every night for that. It's like _gold_ around here." Bucky leaned his elbows on the counter. "What's in it for me?"

Steve's eyes flicked from his phone to Bucky, who just realized then that he was, like, a foot away from Steve's face and, yes, his skin looked _just_ as flawless up close. Steve held his gaze for a moment before resting his chin on a palm.

"I was thinking somewhere downtown," Steve's voice dropped _another_ octave, if at all possible. "Somewhere _private."_ Bucky tried not to swallow audibly. "I brought a picnic."

Bucky bit his lower lip to stop from laughing. Steve seemed just so _sweet_ that he was probably serious about there being a picnic, but it was strange enough to be refreshing and romantic and those baby blues totally sold Bucky. Steve could have said he wanted to jump off of a bridge and Bucky would follow him.

Bucky pushed back from the counter and unclipped his name tag. "Nat, I'm out!"

The redhead was out of the kitchen before Bucky was out from behind the bar. "What?"

"I'm out, taking a vacation day," he answered, tugging out his sloppy bun and letting his hair free. He glanced at Steve before looking back at her. "Maybe two."

Natasha looked at Steve as well, her expression interested. "Alright. I'll have Sharon take over again. Call me."

"Sure thing!" Bucky agreed, grinning at Steve after he said good bye to Natasha as she dipped back into the kitchen. "Well, Hot Window Guy - I seem to have my afternoon free. You have any plans?"

"Maybe a few," Steve replied. He fell into step beside Bucky and held the door for him. "Going to the park if you're interested?"

"Only if you save me a kitten; my apartment is a little lonely."

Steve shot Bucky a look that would have made him run into the door had Steve not been holding it.

"No promises on the kitten," Steve said, a helluva a lot closer than Bucky thought he'd been standing. "But I _might_ be able to help with other things."

Bucky blinked, taking in Steve from bottom to top, dark jeans and leather jacket with a light blue shirt that brought out his eyes. Steve was gorgeous, sweet, and he only had eyes for Bucky.

Bucky grinned at the offer, pushing a hand through his hair. "Who knew window cleaning could be better than Tinder?"

Steve's laugh was warm and rich, and Bucky decided he didn't think he'd ever tire of hearing it.

* * *

 ** _A/N: SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS! I'd like to know how this went. :)_**


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